My wife and I were talking the other day and she asked me what I was passionate about. She has known me for almost nine years and never once did I ever mention a passion. I thought about it for a moment and realized that I have no one, single, driving passion. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero.
I got depressed.
Everyone has a passion. There are passionate golfers, needlepointers, quilters, bakers, hamster ranchers, dog breeders, bird watchers, car builders, nerf herders, and Star Trek fans. I, on the other hand, had nothing. As I thought about it I realized that I never had a passion about any single, solitary thing...ever. In fact, I never had a big dream, but that is a different story.
I got more depressed.
We then had a joint epiphany: I am passionate about everything, and I have been this way since I can remember.
I started to feel much better.
I am truly, manically, interested in everything and everything. I have an almost insatiable desire to know about things and how stuff works. As a child I spent hours reading the 1934 Wonder Book of Knowledge over, and over, and over again (especially the section on smelting steel.) The other day I found myself thumbing through a book on cattle ranching, though I have to admit the "Raising Corn" title next to it was calling my name.
So, it isn't that I don't have a single passion, it is that I am passionate about everything.
Odd? Yes.
Depressing? Far from it.
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